


Wrong Side of the Blanket

by eliza_doolittlethings



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Sherlock (TV) Fusion, M/M, Master/Servant, Mutual Pining, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21593494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliza_doolittlethings/pseuds/eliza_doolittlethings
Summary: “You can be frank with me. I shall not be offended. In fact, I would rather that you be bold and voice your opinions if you do want to continue working for me,” Mycroft’s soft but firm tone brooked no argument.Molly watched the Lord of the Manor straighten himself and walk stiffly back to his study past the open French window. Hurrying after him she tried again, “He needs a mother’s touch, sir.”“That he does,” Mycroft replied as he settled behind the desk. Smoothing the page that he should have finished yesterday, Mycroft said, “I have tried my best to be the brother he needs. But, Lestrade has more effect than I do, it seems.”“He is a nice man.”“Yes, he is,”Mycroft smiled, then, eyes glazed, he continued, “considering his parentage ..”“Sir?”“He was ‘born on the wrong side of the blanket’,” Mycroft spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if recollecting something forgotten.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 20
Kudos: 56





	1. The Servant and The Master

**Author's Note:**

> I have been struggling to getting a few of the chapters .. 'feel' right. And Lavender_and_Vanilla made this possible. If there are any mistakes it is entirely mine!

#  [ ](https://enigmaticpenguinofdeath.tumblr.com/post/75719561240/whats-your-favourite-mark-gatiss-character-apart#notes)

###  Scene 1 

_{middle of the night - Holmes Manor - Mycroft’s bedroom}_

Gregory watched his master put out the flames, mumbling and swearing under his breath. The man looked ethereal in the glow of the fire.

Roused from his daydreaming, the man-servant rushed to his master’s aide.

The smoke that he had noticed, while hanging around in the garden, was definitely from Lord Mycroft’s bedroom. He was certain of it.

At first it looked to him as if the master was burning something. As the cloud of smoke thickened, Gregory ran to the vine that grew along the wall up to the roof of the house and nimbly climbed the two stories. 

  
  


###  Scene 2 

_{Mycroft’s bedroom - dying embers and glowing carpet}_

“How did you get in?” Mycroft asked, a little testily. He was sweating from the exertion and the heat of the flames, the white cotton shirt sticking to his back. The folded sleeves had unrolled down over his hands. Pulling them up, Mycroft tried to tidy up the mess.

Gregory rushed to his aide, while answering shortly, “ .. the vine ..” In his hurry, he had grabbed his master’s hand and for a moment held on.

Mycroft glanced back at the man who looked more like a boy, watching him expectantly. Testily he untangled their hands and remarked, “Don’t make it a habit.”

  
  


###  Scene 3 

_{Mycroft’s bedroom - smoke filled and gloomy}_

The hurt look on Gregory’s face went unnoticed by his master, who seemed preoccupied. Turning towards the window to go out the way he had come in, he halted on hearing his master’s commanding voice.

“Take the stairs down.”

Head bent, he walked out the door.

Mycroft stood looking at the closed door, then went back to his desk. Falling into the chair in a huff, he rested his elbows on the armrest while steepling his fingers, lost in thought.

Gregory had joined the Holmes Manor when he was only 14 yrs old. Mycroft, by then 24, had recently taken over the running of the estate from his father.

Anderson, his manager, had recommended the boy. Enthusiastic and gregarious, Mycroft felt it was a wise decision at the time. Six years on, the continued presence of someone so vivacious was quite disconcerting.

Not that Mycroft was averse to such feelings. He simply did not allow his emotions to rule his head. And the boy had a way of breaking through his barriers.

Mycroft desperately sought a way to put distance between himself and the boy, but to no avail.

The fire had started from his reverie, a fantasy, wondering what it would be like, for once, giving in to his desires. What a disaster! This wouldn’t do. He needed to be more in control. Mycroft vowed to himself.

  
  


###  Scene 4 

_{Holmes Manor - next day early morn - Mycroft’s study}_

“Anderson,” Gregory stood by the study door, hat in hand, twirling it round and round. After waiting for a response and not getting any, he continued, “Is the master awake?”

Anderson was busy searching for something among the papers on the master’s desk. “He’s gone,” was the brusk rejoinder.

“Where to?” Gregory asked, a little disappointed and worried.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” 

“I saw smoke, from the upper window last night. Wondered, maybe ..”

“And what did you do?” Anderson had now turned to him, scrutinising him over the glasses that had slipped half way down.

“Um...”

“The master’s carpet caught fire from a cinder. He managed to put it out. The housekeeper is seeing to it,” the lanky manager got back to the papers, putting them in order, then shoved the lot into a satchel and walked out.

“When will he be back?” Greg could not help but ask.

“He’s got some business in town. Said it will take a week or more. You can be of help to Sally overseeing the master’s bedroom being restored. He specifically asked for you to stay back.”

Gregory watched the retreating back of the manager, wondering if he had overstepped his place and offended Lord Mycroft.

  
  


###  Scene 5 

_{Holmes Manor - 10 days after the ‘fire incident’, morn}_

‘Lestrade, where the deuce are you?! The master will be here any moment,” Sally, the housekeeper rushed out of the hall, climbing the stairs as fast as she could, blankets and sheets piled in her hands.

Gregory came running into the house, hair messed up, sweat pouring down his face. “I’d been asked to help out with master’s new horse,” he spoke out, more to himself, climbing the stairs two at a time.

“You need to air out the guest bedroom. Someone important is coming,” Sally called out from the master’s bedroom.

Gregory peeped in, watched Sally for a few seconds and then dared to ask, “Who is it?”

“How am I to know? Now get going!” Sally shouted out, huffing.

  
  


###  Scene 6 

_{Holmes Manor - same day, afternoon}_

Lord Mycroft alighted from his horse, and walked to the carriage as an elderly lady popped her head out. “Here, Mrs. Hudson, gently,” Mycroft held out his hand to the frail woman who seemed stronger than her physique conveyed. She was followed by a much younger lady.

Mycroft escorted the lady down as she alighted from the carriage.

“Miss Hooper, Mrs. Hudson, allow me to introduce you to Anderson, my manager, Sally, my housekeeper and Gregory, my man-servant.”

“Hello,” Molly smiled shyly. Her nervousness was obvious to the servants, who were quite interested in her age and what she was here in Holmes Manor for.

“Sally, please show them to their rooms. We shall dine at six,” Mycroft directed his housekeeper, before walking alone into the house.

  
  


###  Scene 7 

_{Holmes Manor - same day, early evening}_

Sally was uneasy. They had been asked to prepare one room and now there were two ladies! As she bustled around gathering fresh linen, Gregory followed her around like a puppy.

“How old do you think the lady is? She seems closer to Sherlock by age, don’t you think? And who’s Mrs. Hudson? Could she be a distant aunt?” 

“Lestrade, either help me or move out of the way. Do you want to be reprimanded by the master?” Sally bit out under her breath while rushing up the stairs.

Gregory waited at the base of the stairs wondering when he heard his master call out, “Where is Lestrade?”

  
  


###  Scene 8 

_{Holmes Manor - Mycroft’s study}_

“Yes, sir?” the man-servant was by the study door in a jiffy.

“I need you to go to Musgrave Hall tomorrow and inform my father that I have arranged a tutor for Sherlock and pack his belongings. He shall be staying here from now on,” Mycroft spoke fast and clear while looking at a book in his hand, then turned and walked towards the desk.

“What about Redbeard sir?” Gregory asked hurriedly, hoping that he was not being forward.

“What about him?” the master asked his head still bent over the book,

“Master Sherlock would never come without his dog, sir.”

“Hm. Well, bring him along, then.”

Gregory waited for a second, then realising that he was dismissed, bowed to his master’s back and walked towards the stables.

  
  


###  Scene 9 

_{Musgrave Hall garden - next day morn}_

“Master Sherlock! Master Sherlock!” Gregory ran after the boy, who was chasing the dog around the pond in his nightclothes.

Only ten years old, the younger Holmes brother was a favourite of his father. Their mother having died in childbirth, it was only natural that the boy was pampered; he grew up with no wants, no regard for conventions, feared only his older brother and loved to tease his brother’s man-servant.

“I’m not coming! I don’t want to study. You can tell my brother that,” Sherlock had caught up with Redbeard who was flooding his face with saliva, front paws on his shoulder. The dog was as tall as the boy when it stood up on it’s hind legs.

“Do you want him to come get you himself?” Gregory stood smiling at the sight, panting, hands holding his bent knees as he tried to catch his breath.

  
  


###  Scene 10 

_{Holmes Manor - same day, forenoon}_

“Damn!” Gregory heard his master exclaim and longed to go see, but kept to his task of polishing Master Sherlock’s shoes.“Good Heavens!” the next exclamation made him relinquish his task and go take a peek.

Mycroft was perched on a ladder attempting to reach the top of a bookcase and having tugged at a bundle of papers, was now covered in dust, the papers scattered all over the floor.

“You find it amusing?” 

Mycroft’s sarcastic remark drove the smile from Gregory’s face, who promptly replied, “No, sir.”

“Well, come here and help me get down. I can’t see the bloody rungs clearly.”

Gregory wondered how his master had seen him smile then, but dared not ask. Rushing to his master’s aide, he gently held one hand while his master gingerly put one foot at a time on each rung till he reached the floor.

“Don’t wipe the dust sir,” Gregory held his hand that had fished out the handkerchief. “The dust will go into your eyes. I’ll help you to your room. You need to wash them,” Gregory spoke as he guided his blinded master slowly up the stairs.

  
  


###  Scene 11 

_{Holmes Manor - same time, another wing}_

“Master Sherlock, Latin is essential for understanding philosophy!” Mrs. Hudson’s frustrated voice rang out of the school room.

Molly was huddled on the window seat, reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’. She kept her finger on the page and closed the book to look out the window.

Mrs. Hudson had been her mother’s dear friend. After her father’s death in the war, 5 years ago, they had found it hard to survive on her mother’s meagre salary working as a teacher. She had a delicate constitution, a weak chest, being prone to bouts of cough since childhood, making her unsuitable for employment/physical labor. Mrs. Hudson had kindly offered to give them a place to stay. Her mother never recovered from the loss of Molly’s father and the grief took it’s toll and eventually she passed away too. With no other kith or kin, Molly continued to stay with Mrs. Hudson, who promised to help her find employment as a governess.

Having written to her old ward, Lord Mycroft, a year back, seeking help and receiving no response, Mrs. Hudson had helped her gain employment as a librarian. That’s where Molly had met Lord Mycroft. He was impressed by her efficiency and understanding the situation, had offered to appoint her as his assistant; help him with his work, organise his writings.

Or so he had said. For he had yet to call her.

  
  


###  Scene 12 

_{Holmes Manor - Mycroft’s bedroom}_

“Please, sir. You mustn’t open your eyes,” Gregory was holding a seated Mycroft’s face in his hand, while gently wiping a wet cloth along his cheeks and moustache. The beard was dripping with water from the cloth, flowing down his neck and soaking his cravat.

Mycroft began to feel stifled, not from the nearness of his man-servant, which was actually very intoxicating, but from the racing of his heart, making him breathe deeper. He could distinctly smell the man and that did not help him control his breathing in the least.

Rising abruptly, he grabbed the cloth and said, “Ask Miss Hooper to join me in my study.”

Stunned for a moment, Gregory simply nodded and left.

  
  


###  Scene 13 

_{Holmes Manor - kitchen}_

“What could he want with her?” Gregory was sitting by the kitchen table rolling a potato from one hand to the other while Sally peeled them one by one, dipping the peeled ones into water.

“You ask too many questions, for your own good,” Sally pointed the knife at him sprinkling water on his face.

Wiping it away without a thought, Gregory looked at the potato in his hand and spun it. “I mean, she is what? Fifteen years, maybe? Did you talk to Mrs. Hudson?” Gregory looked over to Sally expectantly.

Sally simply shook her head. Seeing his glum look she said, “She may be too young for him, but he does have to marry someday. And it will be easier to take care of Sherlock with a lady in the house.”

  
  


###  Scene 14 

_{Mycroft’s study - a few days later}_

The plan was perfect. Molly would help with his work, engage Sherlock, and be a cover. Nobody would suspect a thing. Of course, only his heart would not be lied to.

Mycroft looked over at the girl who was concentrating on the gathered papers, his work on Homer’s Iliad; a lifetime’s effort. Sighing he tried to concentrate on the page that he had been reading for the past half hour.

The faint noise of laughter and barking made him rise from behind his desk. Walking over to the French windows, he opened one and stepped out onto the terrace. Sherlock and Lestrade were wrestling with the dog, who had a cap in it’s mouth.

The slow smile that hinted at the corner of Mycroft’s lips flitted away at the approach of the rustling sound of Molly’s gown.

“Shall I start transliterating, Sir?”

“Miss Hooper,” Mycroft addressed her indifferently, as he stood observing the scene beyond, his voice dispassionate, “What do you think of Sherlock?”

“Sherlock, sir?” Molly was perplexed.

Mycroft turned to her, rested his right arm on the railing that winded away and down towards the garden, cocked his head and observed her. “Yes, Miss Hooper, Sherlock,” he persisted.

“He is a nice boy?” Molly’s lame hesitant reply made Mycroft laugh out loud.

  
  


###  Scene 15 

_{The terrace outside Mycroft’s study}_

“You can be frank with me. I shall not be offended. In fact, I would rather that you be bold and voice your opinions if you do want to continue working for me,” Mycroft’s soft but firm tone brooked no argument.

Molly watched the Lord of the Manor straighten himself and walk stiffly back to his study past the open French window. Hurrying after him she tried again, “He needs a mother’s touch, sir.”

“That he does,” Mycroft replied as he settled behind the desk. Smoothing the page that he should have finished yesterday, Mycroft said, “I have tried my best to be the brother he needs. But, Lestrade has more effect than I do, it seems.”

“ **He** is a nice man.”

“Yes, he is,”Mycroft smiled, then, eyes glazed, he continued, “considering his parentage ..”

“Sir?”

“He was ‘born on the wrong side of the blanket’,” Mycroft spoke softly, his voice almost a whisper, as if recollecting something forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was born from Mark's portrayal of Henry Rackham in 'The Crimson Petal and Teh White' and also, Rupert's Alec Scudder in 'Maurice'.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson learns about the manservant Lestrade. Mycroft and Sherlock spend some time together. And things between master and servant reach a point of no return.
> 
> p.s. I'm really bad at summaries. Maybe should simply post the chapter from now on. It doesn't matter, does it?

###  [ __ ](https://expo63.tumblr.com/post/157458292632/weneedtotalkaboutsherlock)

###  _Scene 16_

{Mycroft’s study - contn.}

Molly waited for an explanation, but none came. She waited for a few more seconds and then walked towards the table where she had spread out the papers, in the order that it was written. 

Engrossed in the task, she was oblivious to the piercing blue eyes that studied her from across the table. Eyes that were calculating, weighing possibilities.

Sherlock barged into the study through the open window shouting, “Miss Molly come with me.” He pulled her hand trying to drag her away.

Gregory stood just outside, sheepishly watching the situation.

“If you desire a respite, we shall continue after lunch, Miss Hooper,” Mycroft said, brow wrinkled, concentrating on the book in front of him, as if unaware of the occupants of the room. 

“Come,” Sherlock excitedly pushed her from behind and together they joined Gregory who started talking animatedly the moment they were out of earshot from Mycroft’s study.

  
  


* * *

###  _Scene 17_

{Holmes Manor - a month passes}

Mycroft stuck to his routine. He never seemed to be bothered by his brother’s disruptions. On the contrary, he seemed happy even, whenever Molly was dragged away by him.

As the days passed, Gregory and Molly came into some kind of an understanding. They managed to keep Sherlock's antics under control communicating sometimes even without words.

Mrs. Hudson complained constantly to Lord Mycroft of Sherlock’s inattentiveness, but he did nothing to rectify the matter.

Mycroft saw less and less of Gregory and it made it easier for him to continue his work, without feeling distracted. Within a month after her arrival, Molly had helped Mycroft complete the book and ready it to be published.

* * *

###  _Scene 18_

“Oh, he’s been here for quite _some_ time, _Mrs. Hudson_!” Sally answered, seating herself opposite Mrs. Hudson.

“Lestrade was not much older than Master Sherlock when he first arrived. His cheery manner and jovial demeanor was compelling. The servants took an instant liking to him, but there never were any complaints of misbehaviour. 

“Trouble began when one of the girls tried to corner him. He refused to bed her, causing a ruckus. She turned the tables and _complained_ against him. Some of the other servants joined hands.

“At the time he was only a stable lad and Lord Mycroft sent for the boy’s uncle, spoke to him and decided to keep him in his employ, but dismissed the scullery maid. 

“There was quite a lot of talk about the master’s decision. It seems once his heart is set on something, nothing can deter Lord Mycroft.” Sally ended the tale and sipped her tea. 

“What kind of talk?” Mrs. Hudson asked, unable to hide her curiosity.

“You know. Why Master would show such interest in a boy of ... you know,” Sally shrugged her shoulders as if her point was obvious. 

“What?” Mrs. Hudson sounded confused.

“His mother is said to have borne him out of wedlock. No one knows who the father is! She was working in London. Came back one day, and in a month the boy was born.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! It is plain gossip! Must be,” Mrs. Hudson was furious.

Sally smiled knowingly and rose.

* * *

###  _Scene 19_

{Holmes Manor - Mycroft’s study}

The night they had achieved the task, Mycroft sat in his study, going through Molly’s transliteration, examining the document for any errors. It was well past midnight. The household had long gone to bed and the fire had almost died down. The candles were burning low and Mycroft stood up to light a new one when he heard movement in the corridor. Standing still, he waited; the sound of bare feet approaching. Hiding a smile he turned around and walked to the desk, opened the drawer and took out a worn out hardbound book “ **Robinson Crusoe** ”.

“Mycroft?” Sherlock stood by the door in his long nightshirt, holding onto the knob, licking his lips nervously.

“Yes?” Mycroft asked casually, turning his head, his body hiding the book.

“Will you read to me?”

“What would you like to hear?”

“The same one ...” Sherlock hesitated.

“Come sit on the sofa,” Mycroft said as he walked towards the fireplace, book in hand.

* * *

###  _Scene 20_

{Same night - Gregory’s musings}

Gregory had waited for his master to turn up and seeing that it was almost 2 a.m., he went searching for him. He had a feeling that Lord Mycroft was deliberately avoiding him. He woke up earlier than Gregory and went to sleep later. Gregory never got to see him alone.

One day, he had approached his master and asked him, “Sir, is there something that I should be doing? I mean, Anderson said that I was to be your valet and ..” he paused, then continued, “I do put your clothes out for the day and tidy your room and take care of the washings, but, ..” he paused again, “Is there anything that I’m supposed to be doing that I’m not?”

And he got the prompt reply, “You are performing your duties adequately.”

That was a week after Sherlock’s arrival.

They had not seen each other or spoken since.

Walking to the study, he saw the faint glow of a dying candle through the door that stood ajar. Putting his head in he smiled at the sight - Mycroft sat, with his legs extended on the sofa, Sherlock fast asleep with his head on Mycroft’s lap. Taking a closer look, he knew that Mycroft had dozed off. 

After waiting for a second, he decided to wake his master, who’d have a sore neck in the morning otherwise.

* * *

###  _Scene 21_

“Sir, sir,” Gregory shook the master gently by the shoulder.

Mycroft’s vision was enveloped by dark wide eyes that drew his mind deeper into the haziness that he had dozed off into. For a moment he simply gave in to the reverie, lips parting, watching the red tip of a tongue that had shot out to wet soft pink lips.

“You need to get back to bed, sir,” Gregory’s gentle voice broke the spell.

“Yes,” Mycroft mechanically answered, trying to get up.

Gregory rushed to pick the sleeping form of Sherlock and carry him up the stairs, his master still sitting, unable to move.

After tucking Sherlock in, Gregory walked to his master’s bedroom through the antechamber. He could hear Lord Mycroft swear.

“Let me help,” Gregory quickly rushed to his master. 

Mycroft had tried to remove his shirt without completely untying the lace that held the collar together and was furiously trying to untangle his head from the bunched cloth.

Loosening the eyes deftly the servant rid Mycroft of his shirt in seconds. Heaving and panting from the frustration, the master’s fiery eyes pierced his man-servant’s.

* * *

###  _Scene 22_

“You should understand that this can never happen,” Mycroft spoke harshly, his breath frosting in the narrow gap between them.

Gregory stood perfectly still, afraid to break the spell, his master’s shirt clasped in his hands.

“Because I’m your servant?” the trembling voice did not resemble that of the jovial man who never seemed to be affected by anything.

“No!” Mycroft’s fury was frightening. “Have I ever treated you as one?” Mycroft asked, sounding vulnerable for the first time in his life.

Gregory moved forward, encouraged by the chink in his master’s armour. Gently placing one hand on Mycroft’s chest, he moved closer still, letting their breaths mingle.

“You’ve kept me away,” he said, not accusingly, but downcast.

“For your own good,” Mycroft pleaded, firmly holding Gregory by both arms firmly as if to push him away.

Gregory closed his eyes tightly, waiting to be rejected, again. The sudden crushing feel of warm lips took his breath away making him involuntarily part his own lips. He heard a moan and then felt himself being pulled into a hug, long arms tightening around him, his hands trapped between their chests.

Feeling his master’s inept attempts, Gregory guided him with his own lips; sensing the satisfied mumble, he boldly sucked his master's lower lip that quivered with passion.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Mrs. Hudson and Sally should be a background voice to Scene 17, with glimpses of the women having tea in between ..  
> Well, that's the way I pictured it while writing.  
> Hope you can too.
> 
> Also, the next chapter will be explicit. I'll post that alone [- which is why I changed the number of chapters to 4]; in case there are readers who are uncomfortable with explicit scenes. Just saying, since, I've noticed many readers write a ... warning note. [don't think there are any of you who'd skip it, still ;) ] 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit chapter. I've been helped a lot by Lavender_and_Vanilla. Hope it gives you a glimpse of my imagination ..  
> I've cut it into 6 scenes ..  
> You can skip this chapter. It has no relevance to the rest of the story.  
> Although, it does show how much they feel for each other and how well they bring out the deep feelings that were kept hidden ...  
> enjoy! :)

###  _Scene - 23_

Dropping the shirt that he still held in one hand, he let the other roam through the chest hairs that felt softer than feather. The feel of a tongue exploring his open mouth made him grasp a handful of that chest hair while the other hand moved lower fingers tracing the trail down under the waistband of his master’s breeches. 

The response was rapid. Growling, with lightning speed Mycroft lifted the boy off the ground and tumbled themselves onto the bed.

The reticence of the master was compensated by the passion of the man-servant. 

Gregory never let his hand on the chest go. The other roamed further down, between their bodies loosening the breeches deftly, from years of training. 

Mycroft lost control of his actions and bucked his hips in response, giving in to the pleasure that overflowed, drowning his senses.

Tussling to get back in control he pinned Gregory down on the bed, holding him by the shoulder and assaulted his lips, biting and sucking the lower one that had puckered out in disappointment.

  
  


###  _Scene 24_

Relishing in the attention, he gave in to his Master’s need to explore his mouth, joyfully returning the favour. 

Tongues duelling, each trying to best the other, Gregory gave in to his Master’s need to be bold; whose attention to detail made the servant feel worshipped.

He could feel his master hesitantly explore his body with those soft lips and tongue, first tasting, then sucking, moving from his lips to his chin, then along his jaw to just below his ear, nipping at the ear lobe, then down his neck, nuzzling his shirt collar with that large nose of his. 

Sighing with pleasure, Lestrade gently rubbed his shirt clad chest against his master’s bare one.

All the while his Master’s hands moved along his body, first up and down, over his shirt, then slowly searching for the skin that got exposed just above his breeches.

Lost in the softness of the tongue that laved his lips followed by the sharp nip that sent shooting pleasure through his veins, Gregory widened his legs and let go his breath, allowing Mycorft to settle closer.

  
  


###  _Scene 25_

Needing more friction, Mycroft grabbed Gregory’s legs and pushed himself harder, allowing their hips to be joined, with only their clothes as a barrier. Holding Gregory’s face in his palms, he tilted it, lifting it ever so slightly so that he could hold that soft glowing face in place while he tasted those tender lips till they made him heady with passion.

Unable to stay still any longer, Gregory moved his hands around Mycroft and enveloped him in an embrace, pressing himself as close as he could to his master, till he felt breathless. Relishing the assault to his lips, his hands moved further up, rubbing the pale back of Mycroft that he had admired for so long, ending on the shoulder, using it to leverage himself, moving his hips closer still.

Gregory arched his hips, lost in the pleasure, enjoying his Master’s need for him. He closed his eyes as the friction made him long for more; the desire to feel his Master’s arousal against his. Quashing the thought, he held onto those shoulders and rode his desire, afraid that he would go too far and lose that which was unexpectedly offered.

  
  


###  _Scene 26_

Mycroft moaned aloud feeling the press of Gregory’s arousal against his. Emboldened, bending his head, he rested against Gergory’s neck, his lips brushing along that soft delectable cheek and down to the neck. Moving his hips in rhythm with Gregory, he kissed that neck where he could feel the beat of his lover’s heart. Sucking on the skin hard, his hips moved faster as Gregory moved his hands down and pulled him closer still, rubbing and kneading Mycorft’s derrière.

Gregory tilted his hips and encircled his Master’s waist with his legs.

Using his hands and legs, he guided their movement, concentrating on his Master’s pleasure.

Mycroft had lost all semblance of control, blindly following Gregory’s lead.

Gregory, determined to make his Master’s joy last, slowed his movements, stilling their hips, hands holding him firmly in place. Raising his body from the bed, he closed the gap, his hands moving along his Master’s back, pulling him closer and nuzzled that glowing beard just below his chin.

  
  


###  _Scene 27_

Mycroft held himself upright, hands planted on the bed, legs splayed over Gregory’s. Sensing the strain, Gregory shifted to his side, cradling his Master in his arms, hands caressing his neck while his mouth enjoyed tasting that bearded chin. Kissing him all the way down to the hollow of his neck, licking his way up along the side, nuzzling the hair, enjoying the friction, he breathed in the scent of his Master, and pushed himself up along that hairy chest nuzzling his shoulder.

The manservant took advantage of his Master’s preoccupation, who was lost in the feeling of being loved and dipped his hands down, moving below the waistline, swiftly taking hold of Mycroft’s bare cheeks, fondling them tenderly.

Mycroft could not stop his movements, so lost in the feel of Gregory’s ministrations. He frantically pushed his hips, pinning Gregory’s to the bed.

Gregory had hoped to explore the front as much as he had the back. But his Master was desperate and had prevented him from moving leaving no room between them. 

Allowing Mycroft to set the pace, Gregory aided the rhythm with his hands squeezing alternately those globes that filled his palms in encouragement while his lips sought out that sensitive area on his Master’s neck where he could feel the rapid heart beat. He sucked hard and licked the area, making Mycroft moan with pleasure and grind harder into him.

  
  


###  _Scene 28_

As their passion was reaching it’s culmination, Mycroft’s lips searched desperately for Gregory’s and his tongue moved in accordance with his hips, pinning Gregory’s head in place, one hand on the side and the other circling his shoulder.

Gregory moved his legs to cling to the back of Mycroft's thighs and pushed harder against his master, eagerly seeking the need for release along with him.

Trying to maintain the rhythm, their tangled bodies moving down the bed, Mycroft’s legs dangled at an angle off the edge. Frantically Mycroft planted his legs firmly on the floor while holding Gregory in place, the height of the bed helping him maintain his stance. So close to fruition, he was determined not to let the rhythm go. 

Holding firmly onto Gregory hips, he pushed himself as hard as he could, elbows planting him in place, thumbs tenderly caressing Gregory’s cheeks and hair as Mycroft peppered his face and neck with kisses. The intoxication of release filling his senses, Mycroft was drenched in sweat and shudderingly collapsed over his lover, unable to stop his assault on Gregory’s neck and chin.

Lost in the sensations that Mycroft aroused in him, Gregory finally felt his own release and fell back on the bed, arms and legs spread out, panting.

Mycroft slowly let himself up, gazed lovingly at Gregory’s damp hair and face, lifted him onto the bed tenderly, laid by him and pulled the sheet, covering their sweat laden bodies from the draft.


	4. Chapter 4

###  _ Scene 29 _

“Would you consider accepting my help?” Mycroft asked hesitantly, his arms around Gregory, holding him close, nuzzling his head just above the ear.

“Mm?” Gregory was half asleep, huddled against Mycroft, one leg and one arm over his master. He rubbed his head on Mycroft’s chest and kissed the centre, breathing in deep, content, relaxed.

“In getting a job,” Mycroft continued, gently rubbed Gregory’s head and running his fingers through the black mane, inhaling the aroma that rose, hugging him closer.

“I ‘ave a job,” Gregory’s speech slurred.

“Hmhm,” Mycroft smiled, “Yes, you do, but, I want you to stand on your own feet.”

Gregory pushed himself up on his elbow, other arm holding Mycroft’s body firmly, and asked jovially, “Whose feet am I standing on now?”

Mycroft gave him a quick kiss and pulled him down, his hand returning to that silky hair. Sighing he continued, “Be serious. You cannot live like this, as my man-servant. I can recommend you as a trainee in the Baskerville factory if you would like that.”

“If you want me to have a job of my own, I can work at my uncle’s. He’s a carpenter,” Gregory rose again, watching Mycroft intently.

“Will you be happy there?” Mycroft asked doubtfully, his mouth pouting, brow wrinkled, eyes lost in thought.

“I’ll be happy if I can be with you like this,” Gregory smiled, sliding over Mycroft’s body and kissing him deeply all worry of never seeing Mycroft again now gone.

###  _ Scene 30 _

{Mycroft’s Study - a few days later}

“Why is Gregory leaving?” Sherlock was sitting on Mycroft’s desk with his legs dangling.

“Who told you?” Molly asked, perched on the ladder in the study, going through an old volume of Latin dictionary.

“Anderson said he was born on the wrong side of the blanket and so had to leave,” Sherlock’s matter-of-fact tone made Molly close the tome firmly and pay attention.

“Do you know what that means?” She watched Sherlock shrug his shoulders and jump down.

“He told you that?” she continued, incredulous.

“No,” Sherlock hesitated as he ran his fingers along the volumes, “he told Mrs. Hudson.”

“And you overheard them,” Molly sounded accusatory.

“I was making an observation,” Sherlock defended his stance.

“What for?!” Molly was now angry.

“For deducing why Gregory is staying the night in Mycroft’s bedroom.”

“What!?” Molly hurriedly got down from her perch and grabbed hold of Sherlock’s shoulders. “Don’t you ever talk like that in front of the servants! Do you hear me?”

“Why ever not? He is, you know,” Sherlock tried to wriggle away but Molly held on.

“Even if he is!” Molly shook him hard, trying to make him see sense.

“I won’t!” Sherlock finally got free and scowling flopped onto the loveseat scowling.

“This is serious, Sherlock. They could face much more than public humiliation. Do you understand what I mean?” Molly sounded defeated as she sat on the chair opposite to him.

Sherlock simply nodded his head and curled up.

“Gregory is going to work for his uncle, who runs a timber mill. He is good with his hands and prefers to do something skillful,” Molly patiently explained.

“He could continue here and Mycroft would set him a workshop,” Sherlock sullenly replied.

“It would never be the same. Having your own business is important for a man. You will understand when you grow up,” Molly sighed and smilingly added. “You would not want to be in your brother’s shadow then,” she ruffled his hair and walked away.

(“So what does it mean, anyway?” Sherlock’s voice faded, following Molly walking out into the garden …)


End file.
